


Metaphorical Cherry

by cmshaw



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, interesting definition of consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-31
Updated: 2008-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmshaw/pseuds/cmshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick grins and pokes Tim in the padded shoulder. "So you wind up in Titans territory undercover as a co-ed--"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metaphorical Cherry

Dick knows that Tim is walking up to the door of his apartment, but when he looks through the peephole after the knock there's a girl there. He can't place her for a second, but her frown looks familiar--

Yes, and it's still true when he yanks the door open. His little Timmy's standing there in make-up and a wig and a very familiar frown and, when Dick settles his shoulder against the doorframe and gives him/her a smirking once-over, Tim adds an irritated eyebrow quirk that he probably doesn't even realize he learned from Bruce. Dick has no idea why Tim's here (like this!), but something deep inside is already kicking up its heels and chortling over the possibilities for poking a great deal of fun.

Tim sighs. "May I come _in_?" he asks, pushing past Dick into his apartment. Dick tries to hip-check him on the way by and Tim swivels easily out of the way, turning up his suddenly-cute-as-a-button nose and putting his hands on his hips once he's inside. Dick wants to applaud, but he settles for closing the door and indulging in another long slow ogle.

Tim gets himself down onto the sofa in a move that looks caught between his usual ostentatiously-normal teenaged boy flop and a fairly prim maneuver that keeps his knees together. For a moment it fails and Dick can almost see right up Tim's skirt. When he looks back up at Tim's face, Tim is blushing bright red and entirely failing at glaring.

Maybe _this_ time Tim's going to try seducing him and _not_ lose his nerve twenty seconds in. Dick's whole body twitches at the thought. He circles around behind the sofa just for the fun of watching Tim tense up as Dick moves out of his line of sight and perches himself on the arm of the sofa right next to Tim. "So," he says brightly, "undercover or just going out dancing?"

Tim tugs at the jacket cuff of the woman's suit he's wearing to such good effect. "Caroline's a med student at -- well, it can vary. We were tracking drug sales but it turned out to be a lot bigger than that, and I wound up in New York."

New York, huh? "Am I going to get a prank call from Arsenal?"

And Dick needs to not lick the lipstick off of the smile that Tim's aiming a few inches to the side of Dick. He also needs to stop thinking about sex for a minute in case this is actually work-related, and besides Tim is the sort of nice girl who'd go for lipstick that doesn't get wonderfully messy. Tim says, "Probably several." Several -- prank calls from Arsenal, right. Dick is absolutely paying attention. "The Titans wound up briefly involved. There's a formal report in your email."

The report isn't urgent, obviously, but he pauses anyway to ask, "Do I need to know anything now?"

"There's nothing of immediate concern," Tim tells him, and now they're back to the question of why Tim's here. Bludhaven's not all that far from New York, but it's far enough to -- okay, now Dick's picturing Tim racing down the turnpike on his tricked-out batcycle, wig and suit jacket flapping in the wind, pink-lipsticked mouth pursed in annoyance at the traffic.

He grins and pokes Tim in the padded shoulder. "So you wind up in Titans territory undercover as a co-ed--"

"Med student," Tim says.

Dick grins wider. "As a co-ed _nurse_\--"

Tim rolls his eyes.

"And you don't invite me along?"

"You'd have been too pretty," Tim answers promptly. "I needed a low profile." He almost pulls it off, too, but the blush flares up again and ruins the smirk. Dick chuckles and watches Tim trying to look him in the eyes.

"Right," Dick drawls, rocking back and forth. "And who wound up hitting on you?" Probably Roy, and the question is how much hurtin' Tim put on him and how much more Dick is going to have to add if he tried to cop a feel--

Except that Tim gets that little bat-smile back even as he says, very seriously, "Starfire wanted to tell me that I was a beautiful woman and shouldn't be ashamed to act like I knew it."

Tim probably thinks that's funny because he thinks Kory wasn't actually hitting on him. Dick thinks that's hilarious because he's pretty sure she was. "What did you say?" he asks.

"'Thank you,'" Tim says gravely. The smile turns up a notch, as does the blush. "Then she propositioned me for sex."

Dick nearly chokes on his laughter. The look that must have been on Tim's face -- "And what did you say to _that_?" he manages to ask.

"'Yes,'" Tim says, still solemn.

"You -- wait," Dick says, and he tosses himself backwards onto his hands. "What?" he says, and shifts up onto the coffee table. "You what?"

Tim doesn't look any more sensible upside-down. Dick cartwheels onto the sofa and paces along the back of it, and Tim twists around to watch him. Tim -- in strappy black flats and an awkwardly-fitted woman's suit and eyeliner and Kory could just pick him up and _toy_ with him, pull down his pantyhose and his -- is he wearing little silk panties? If he asks Kory, will she tell him?

Dick drops down cross-legged onto the cushion next to Tim. "Tell me you did," he begs. "Tell me there's video and I can see -- ow!"

Tim pulls his elbow back. "You could've blocked that," he says.

Dick rubs his chest. "That really _hurt_," he tells Tim.

"Your guard was--"

"We were talking!"

Tim looks pissed off, which means he's probably feeling guilty. "You also could have picked a slightly less _objectifying_ response."

"You realize you're not actually a--" and he blocks Tim's elbow this time. "I mean, um, sorry?" Tim's got pale pink nail polish on those vicious hands of his which would have clashed with Kory's hair if he buried his hands in it, which he must have done if Kory unbuttoned that blouse and ran her hands up Tim's chest to cup his -- plain bra or lacy one? The falsies would have been -- have to still be, right now in front of him -- the highest quality. Bruce allows nothing less --

"That would be more sincere if you weren't staring at my chest," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah, I," Dick says, and scrubs a hand through his hair ruefully. "Or we could just move on to my second and more nuanced and mature reaction now."

"Okay," Tim says. He folds his hands expectantly. After a moment, he adds, "Let me know when you get there."

"Um," Dick says. Tim's frown has eased up to the level that means he's failing to not enjoy himself. Dick leans forward a little bit and watches Tim's thighs tense. There's a run in his pantyhose. There might be holes in it farther up under the skirt, finger-sized holes where Kory couldn't wait. Tim can fight in pantyhose, of course; he regularly fights in tights. Did he kick anyone's teeth out in this outfit? Did it turn Kory on if he did? Did Tim's thighs fall open for her the way Tim never lets them for Dick? "You might need to give me a minute or two," he admits.

"Do you need some time alone?" Tim asks, and his voice is just off enough to make Dick _think_ about it. About walking into the bedroom and closing the door and jerking off to the knowledge that Tim is thinking about Dick thinking about Tim having sex.

His big head hurts a little, but his little head hurts a lot. His jeans are way too tight when he sits in this position, and by "position" he means "three inches away from the cockteasing Robin in drag". Dick swallows and leans a little more to make it two inches. Tim still doesn't part his thighs, but he does lick his lips and leave them wet and open.

Tim absolutely went down on Kory. If there's any justice anywhere in the world, Tim went down on Kory. Lipstick and all. Mascara smeared on Kory's thighs. Cunt smeared on Tim's cheeks, rubbing away the artificial blush to show the real blush underneath. Kory's hips would be capable of _flinging_ Tim around when she came.

Tim waves his hand in front of Dick's face and Dick blinks. Tim's pouty pink mouth isn't helping him control his breathing at all. "Do you have sex with Kory a lot?" he asks.

Tim looks startled. "It was my first -- it was my _first_," he repeats. "I mean, if it counts."

"Sex with Kory _always_ counts," Dick says.

"Even if I was still all," and Tim gestures to his outfit.

Dick grins. No, if he's honest, Dick leers. "She liked it," he says. "She kept you in it."

Tim ducks his head and tugs at the hem of the skirt. "As much as was practical. She pulled my pantyhose down when it was...necessary."

"Necessary," Dick says, and ruffles Tim's wig.

"I'm a little sore," Tim admits, and Dick seizes up, his hand still on the back of Tim's head. If Kory did -- Tim's available to be _used_, to be _fucked_ \-- he wants Kory's sloppy seconds so badly he can hardly see. Tim ducks his head free and shakes his shoulders out. "Are you objectifying me again?"

"_Yes_," Dick says. Why does Tim always stay so distant --

"_Dick_," Tim says, which is when Dick realizes that he's pinning Tim down on the sofa with the weight of his body. "This isn't what I meant. Come on." He's pushing Dick off, and then Dick has Tim's hands and he blocks those elbows and the knee and the other knee -- Tim has no leverage here and no call for scolding _Dick_ about staying aware of his vulnerabilities -- and he can't find anything in Tim's mouth but the plastic aftertaste of cosmetics, but that's not going to stop him any time soon. Kory's _been_ there, and Dick is going there _now_.

Dick gets his legs around one of Tim's thighs and rides it, Tim's pantyhose clinging to the fabric of Dick's jeans, until Tim's skirt rucks up far enough for Dick to press the bone of his hip up into Tim's crotch when he grinds down hard onto the muscles of Tim's leg. Tim yells into his mouth, his whole body jerking against Dick's, and Dick groans and rocks with it until Tim gets his teeth around Dick's lower lip and bites down hard.

Dick pulls his head back sharply. Tim lets go of his lip and Dick tastes blood. "Be careful," he says. "That hurts."

"Yes," Tim says. His voice is high and pained and he shoves against Dick's grip. "Your hip there hurts a _lot_."

Dick looks down their bodies. He's got his hip braced to rub against Tim's -- "Your lipstick put me on autopilot," he says apologetically. "I do still need to be looking for cock and balls down here, right?" He hitches himself forward until he can press more gently with his thigh, then shifts again until they're lined up, cock to cock through his briefs and jeans and Tim's panties and pantyhose. This time when Dick presses down Tim doesn't make any noise at all; his mouth falls open as he arches back, but Dick can't reach to kiss it any more. He rests his forehead on the arm of the sofa and watches instead.

Tim has to be getting much more sensation than Dick is, because every thrust of Dick's hips is making him shudder. Dick can't really get enough friction like this, but his breath is catching on a moan every time Tim's hips roll up underneath Dick's and completely fail to shift Dick at all. And he's fought with Tim, trained with Tim, _seen_ all of the muscle he can feel moving against him now, and the fact that Robin is completely caught between the soft cushions and the weight of Dick's body -- he doesn't want to be Bruce. He doesn't want to _sympathize_ with Bruce. He -- think of Clark. Or _Kory_, god, yes: Kory with Robin whimpering underneath her, Kory in love with her own power and with Robin's fuckable little weapon of a body -- and Tim presses his face against the back of the sofa and comes, still trapped and silently gasping, against Dick's hips.

Dick kneels up, his own chest heaving for air, and rips open the button of his jeans, the fly of them, and shoves them down his thighs. He can pick Robin up and move him, and he flips him easily over the arm of the sofa, pushing the skirt farther up and spreading Tim's knees apart. There's a wet stain in the pantyhose between Tim's legs and he bends down to press his mouth to it. It's sweat and the scent of the come that spilled just under the waistband, and Dick can feel the softness of testicles against his lips. He works his mouth back and forth, licking and sucking until the pantyhose is dark and wet from Tim's balls all the way up the center of his ass, and then he kneels up again and, holding Tim by the hips, sets his cock in the line he's just drawn. Now he can grind down as hard as he likes, and he can feel the flex of Tim's body against his hands too. He can watch the thrust of his own cock against Tim's well-muscled ass in striped panties until he comes from it, until he arches his back and drives Tim down against the sofa arm and then bends his head again to keep watching. The convulsive drive of his hips is spreading the wet stain all across Tim's ass in uneven lines.

Finally he falls back down onto the sofa, letting go of Tim and sprawling wide. He's panting like the aftermath of a small gang war.

Tim clambers off the sofa arm and stands up, pulling his skirt down and patting it smooth with hands that don't seem very steady. He tugs on his blouse and jacket while Dick watches lazily, then finger-combs the wig back into shape and tucks the wispy bits on the sides behind his ears.

"Well," Tim says, "I suppose we know what kind of a girl _I_ am, now."

Dick grins and beckons Tim closer. Tim hesitates a moment and then steps back toward the sofa. Dick puts his hand around Tim's waist and, when Tim braces himself, uses it to haul himself up into a sitting position so that he can kiss Tim's mouth. He's abruptly reminded of the bite on his lip; he hadn't felt it at all in the rush of lust before, but now it's throbbing. Tim doesn't kiss him back particularly enthusiastically, either, so it's an unsatisfying kiss all around.

Back to being distant _already_. "I've bought you dinner loads of times," Dick protests, "or confiscated it on patrol for you, at least," and Tim's eyes twitch up into a smile that, after a moment, reaches his mouth, too. Tim's lipstick isn't smeared at all, and Dick reaches up to rub the corner of Tim's mouth with his thumb. Tim turns his head and presses a brief kiss to it, and Dick is pretty sure there's a message there, a good one, even if his brain is a little too fuck-stupid still to translate it.

If Tim didn't go down into the Batcave with Bruce every day, this would be a perfect moment to say something sentimental, perhaps even using the L-word. (Not "lesbian", although now he's looking at Tim's falsies and thinking of Kory's breasts again -- no, now's not the time.) (_Next_ time, though....) And already Tim's stepping back again, clasping Dick's hand in both of his as he pulls it away from his face. "I should be heading home," he says, and lets go.

"You never even said why you stopped by," Dick says.

Tim snorts. "Oh, you gave me answers," he says, and there's a look in his eyes that makes Dick kind of desperate to know what the questions were and if he's going to get a passing grade for his essay. Or maybe that's the eyeliner.

"I have to work tomorrow," Dick says. "And -- I'll call you when I'm free, okay?"

"Sure, Dick," Tim says. "I'll be waiting." And he smoothes his skirt down one more time before letting himself out.


End file.
